BLACKBERRYING

I wonder how many of you still go blackberrying? If so you may enjoy a poem I wrote about it describing its hazards as well as its joys! Here it is:

Brambles tearing
scratching at legs and hands.
Clothing caught. The luscious,
shiny, vitamin-filled black fruit picked
then dropped,
plopped
alas into the briars.
Another sun-kisses the mouth
with desire for more.
Back warmth,
stretching and reaching,
for the best are always high
on a wild runner
soaring over the rambling mound of prickles.
The purple-stained fingers,
seeds under the nails,
pick the fruit carefully for bramble jelly,
blackberry and apple pie.
The bag on the wrist swells
and sways and fills the senses
with our success.
The fragrant air tickles the nostrils
with the appetite of autumn.

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